


A Pride of Lions

by Koriember



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koriember/pseuds/Koriember
Summary: The Year is 1191. The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus is at peace.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	A Pride of Lions

Fhirdiad, Great Tree Moon of 1191

* * *

"Allow me to get straight to the point. Faerghus has no need of you. His _Highness_ has no need of you. The Knights of Fhirdiad are the pride of Fódlan, and the King of Lion Corps the finest among them. Am I to be expecting that you lot have any right to even breathe His Majesty's air?"

The Great Tree Moon was the turn of Spring for Northern Faerghus, not that the weather had decided on agreeing with that fact. The cold freshness of the morning combined with a heavy and constant breeze would leave many of Fódlan's populace shivering. Of course, those among the castle courtyard wouldn't dare even breathe out of line with Commander Molinaro pacing between their ranks. The 'Shield of the Lion' as he was known nowadays looked the part: A hulking giant with a face of scarred yet stoic pride. His steps were deliberate, each one making a loud yet sharp steel _clank_. A lifetime of battles lay under his belt, and the axe upon his back was no different. It was nearly as tall as him which was saying quite a bit, and it bore a shimmering Damascus finish instantly recognizable as one of the great Zoltan's works. His armor, impenetrable and immaculate in maintenance was adorned by a simple scarf of Duscur, accompanied by a fur cloak bearing the Crest of Blaiddyd, signifying it as a gift from King Dimitri himself.

What was once a warrior's bun had grown slightly into a short braid, similar to that one of the old advisers to the King had. Not that anyone could see it though- Atop the Commander's head though lay a thick steel helmet in the shape of a Duscur Bear. Its massive jaw covered most of his chin, while the snout protruded beyond his forehead, protecting his brow. If one looked close enough-

"Eyes front! Staring, are we?"

"N-y-Yes. Yessir."

"Huh. How about that. Let's give you something to stare at then."

This voice was different. Not the growling bass of the Shield of the Lion, but equally as menacing. This one belonged to a woman; Commander Galatea was here too, the recruits quickly discovered. Now two legends walked among them.

"Everyone except for Miss Gawker over here get on your faces."

Whatever complaints the new recruits had were silent as can be as they were cadenced through a rigorous punishment. It was however a prime opportunity to stare in peace now that the cold stones of the outdoor courtyard were flush against their noses and palms. Whereas the Shield of the Lion led the armored infantry, the Spirit of Loog as she was fondly referred to led the Pegasus Corps, led by her very own Falcon Knight Corps. If Commander Molinaro was the wall keeping the recruits in this courtyard, Commander Galatea was the chilling wind howling around them. Brilliant silver armor covered her vitals and upper extremities, graced by a rich aqua-colored cape and a newly added hood that kept her neck warm. That had been a gift from Margrave Gaspard of the Rowe and Gaspard territories, a close companion in the war. The usual skirt Pegasus Knights oft wore had been abandoned long ago in favor of plated greaves over tightly fitting cloth cuisses, light yet providing ample protection. She had allowed her hair to grow slightly longer after the Second War of the Eagle and the Lion, a light and simple ponytail bounced against her shoulder blades, tied with only a plain aqua ribbon. What wasn't plain was Lúin, glowing a deep vermilion in her hands as she twirled it casually between her fingers as if it were a quill. It didn't move organically like the other relics but its glow was enough to draw attention.

Attention from the one recruit left standing while her fellow knights slaved around her.

"...Halt."

Commander Galatea slowly walked up to her, staring her right between the visor of her helmet into what looked like light green eyes. On instinct, the recruit looked straight ahead, through her Commander.

"You pull another stunt like that and you'll be the one pushing for all of them."

It was a whisper, yet loud enough that the whole courtyard could hear it loud and clear.

"Get up," Galatea ordered, not wanting to tire out his recruits before they even started the first drills of their life. "I trust we will be paying very close attention to our details from now on."

"Yes Sir," the courtyard replied in unison, punctuated by heavy breathing from those trying to recover. Fog came out of many helmets, and the Commanders made a mental note on which ones were winded by that short exercise.

"Now before we begin, I will know which ones out of you lot are from Duscur. Raise your hands if you are."

Three soldiers raised their hands. Molinaro smiled, though not out of pleasure.

"Do you believe that I will give you special treatment for your... disadvantage?"

"No sir!" They would reply.

"Wrong. I will be unfair. You will do double the work for half the rations. I will personally see to it that you are fit to even step on Faerghus soil. If you think for an instant that I will be just in my punishments, that is an incorrect assumption. You will prove your loyalty to his Highness, to the man who saved your people by your will alone. Now do that exact exercise again."

As the three Duscur recruits pushed, Molinaro made clear to the other recruits his face. His complexion was clearly of Duscur, as if the stories of the Shield were lacking on the fact that he was Duscur as well.

"If you are going to be in this castle... If you are going to be in the presence of _your_ _King_ , you are going to have to earn that right and preserve that right for every. Last. Second. Now get up. Let's begin."

A group of lower ranking officers dragged training dummies out to the courtyard, immediately vacating afterwards to escape the gaze of the two Lions on the prowl for flesh. Dedue lined up the recruits who had retrieved their weapons of choice from the back. Leading them through a series of motions, they began in earnest to hone their nonexistent skills.

* * *

"I have no idea how she managed to lead us through our drills while keeping an eye on all of us at once."

King Dimitri gazed upon the courtyard from the ramparts above, cape billowing in the cold wind. His crown was close to frosting, and even he was chattering silently in the frigid climate. Still wearing his father's armor, his lance doubled as a cane, not that he needed it, but it was nice to lean forward and let his cloak cover his entire body. Areadbhar was safe in another's protection, the King of Lions no longer needing to bare his fangs. He had grown a light beard as his father once had, and his hair was tied neatly back, still preserved in the style he had asked Duke Fraldarius to assist with nearly 5 years ago.

"Because she was the professor," Margrave Gautier explained as if it were matter-of-fact, "and you, Dedue and Ingrid combined couldn't match her."

Dimitri scoffed at the insult, but it was hardly incorrect. Byleth was a phenomenal instructor as he would fondly remember. The Archbishop was still in Garreg Mach quite a ways from Fhirdiad, teaching the newest generation at the Academy. His gaze trailed off, as if he could match her gaze with his own hundreds of miles away.

"Miss her too, huh," Gautier laughed, his cloak not as heavy as Dimitri's therefore leaving him shivering in the cold.

"Every day. And even- Why are we standing here?" he added incredulously, noticing how both he and his companion were shaking uncontrollably.

"You ask me, your Highness. I'm freezing, you're freezing, and these recruits are nothing worth noting."

"Hmph. Well, let's pay them a visit. I _am_ one for tradition."

Dimitri enjoyed crashing Dedue and Ingrid's first day with the recruits by walking in unannounced and unaccompanied. It was a fun tradition that he insisted on repeating every year on this day of the Great Tree Moon, much to his friends' discomfort.

"Will you join us?"

"I'd rather just watch. I'm horribly rusty," Sylvain excused, raising his hands in innocence.

"That you are, my friend. Well, enjoy the show."

With that, Dimitri greeted the guards who quickly scrambled to attention to let him in.

"Y-your Highne-"

"Shh..."

"R-right. Yes. It's an honor to see you again, my King."

"And mine as well, soldiers. May I enter the grounds?"

"Of course."

* * *

"You will now pair off and spar. I wish to see who among you has prior experience in a fight. Winners pair off with winners. Champion pairs up with me."

A multitude of ' _shit'_ and nervous laughter echoed throughout the courtyard, the atmosphere much lighter than it was an hour before. Dedue bared a small smile, hidden beneath the jaw of the bear cresting his chin.

"Begin."

Most of the recruits were farmers or the sons of farmers, more used to tossing hay with a pitchfork than gutting an Adrestrian with a lance, but there was plenty of hidden potential that Dedue and Ingrid would find as they always had. Then there were members of noble families, not able to attend the Monastery but still willing to become Knights of the Kingdom. Those often showed quite a bit of martial prowess.

And then there was her.

"You? You're the winner?"

"Y-yes Sir!"

There stood that staring girl, who miraculously bested three of her peers consecutively and was now the unfortunate one that would spar against Dedue. Whereas most of the prospects used a lance, this one preferred a longsword. Dedue nodded, not one to underestimate a foe just on inexperience. He selected a poleaxe from the rack, getting a feel for its weight before walking over to the center of the courtyard. Ingrid summoned the remaining recruits to watch in formation as the unlucky swordswoman was about to be cleaved in two by the veteran knight.

"Oho, you?" Ingrid laughed, examining the girl over. She wasn't very tall, and the sword she selected was much too long for her build. Dedue's defenses were impenetrable, and a clumsy weapon like the one the recruit had selected was going to find her overextended and then flat on the ground. "Maybe your comrades threw their matches on purpose to have you face Commander Molinaro, hmm?"

Three recruits nodded vigorously, pretending that they didn't just have their collective asses handed to them in short order.

Dedue raised his axe, getting into a ready stance before also pulling out his shield, a colossus of a kite shield that probably weighed more than some of the recruits. It was a finely crafted thing, shaped from Duscur Oak and rimmed by the hide of a Demonic Beast. Not even Lúin would be able to readily pierce it, let alone the trainees' wooden sword.

"At your ready."

The recruit got into a horrendous stance, feet practically heels together and her sword raised square above her head like she was some sort of priest bearing torches for a procession.

Ingrid gulped, not exactly sadistic but not entirely sure Dedue would be able to hold back against the lithe girl.

"Raagugh!" the recruit yelled, charging at her instructor with all she had, bringing a mighty stroke that bounced harmlessly off his shield. Dedue's counter was swift; the point of the spear nearly skewering the girl but miraculously being parried with a clumsy motion as she somehow stepped aside from the thrust. Before she could get ready again though the great doors to the courtyard opened, presenting a lone figure silhouetting against the snow outside.

Dedue quickly fell to a knee, as did many of the recruits and Ingrid. Only the girl remained standing, looking around her and confused out of her mind.

"Kneel! What are you-"

"Why is everyone kneeling?" she asked, her voice flat and clueless.

"...Is this some kind of idiotic joke?" Dedue wondered, rising and bowing to the king in apology. "Please accept my apologies on behalf of this trainee my-"

"Oh that's quite alright, Commander," Dimitri interrupted looking the recruit over and laughing to himself. "Not everyone knows me."

"Who-" the recruit began, quickly being silenced by the king's hand.

"Please, it's okay. Perhaps I can introduce myself my own way. I will take your Commander's place in this duel."

"Huh?"

"...Very well," Dedue concurred, stepping back before giving Dimitri the room he needed and joining Ingrid next to the recruits.

"She's actually going to die. Should we stop this?" Ingrid whispered, but Dedue shook his head.

"I'll tell you after," he whispered back. "I suspect she is holding back."

Dimitri flourished his spear slowly, twirling it around a couple times to warm up his arms and hands.

"Prepare, soldier."

She wasn't actually a soldier yet though, but she stood there blankly, sword lowered and stance straight.

"Who are you?"

Dimitri didn't answer, charging forward at incredible speed and catching the recruit off guard. He cut off his finishing blow short though, intentionally allowing the recruit to focus and defend her very short-lived life.

She quickly sprang back, yelping and raising her sword in a more serious guard now.

"Goddess her stance is hideous," Ingrid noted. "How did she win the brackets?"

"I'll tell you later."

Dimitri wasn't focused on his friends though, analyzing that odd stance before shifting lower than before. If she didn't know what she was doing, neither would he, after all.

"There we go. Let's start for real now."

She charged, striking from her right with a fairly textbook diagonal slash, landing a flimsy hit off the haft of Dimitri's spear which was quickly rebutted with a jab with the butt of his lance to her helmet, causing her to stumble. Seems like it got her right in the nose.

"Ow."

"That's one. I'll give you three tries and then I'll give you back to your Commanders," Dimitri warned, light-hearted but still enjoying the thrill of the fight.

"O-okay."

This time, Dimitri charged, jabbing twice (quite handily deflected) and then spinning his entire body around, let the momentum of his spear crush the trainee's defenses and smashing her straight in the crown of her head. The momentum was immense, and even without the Blaiddyd Crest it would have dented the thin iron.

The poor girl fell to the ground in a heap, and Dimitri feared he had just murdered his own future knight.

"...Are you alright?" he offered weakly, very unkingly.

"Ow... These helmets are horrible," she moaned after a quick respite, flailing about for a second as she couldn't see anything with the dent. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as Dimitri helped her onto her feet.

"You still have one more try. Would you like to take your helmet off?" Dimitri asked, looking quickly to Dedue and Ingrid with a smile. They both sighed and shook their head. Their king always had fun on the first day of the training cycle, much to their expense.

"...Yes please."

"Very well. You may."

The recruit dropped her sword, struggling with her helmet before grumbling, "It's stuck," in a comically muted voice. Dimitri chuckled and placed his spear on the ground, helping the recruit lift her helmet off-

"It's really jammed in there, huh? Let me help. There we go-"

And immediately dropped to his knee, the flimsy helmet bouncing against the stones. Quickly, Dedue and Ingrid both fell, as did some of the recruits.

"Oh please, we're beyond of all of this," Byleth smiled, freeing her sublime lime hair and feeling her nose where Dimitri had so viciously bonked her. "Ow..."

"We had no idea you were coming Archbishop, and-"

Upon hearing that, the rest of the recruits fell, bowing to the quite literal Goddess herself. Except for Sylvain, who remained laughing in the back. Not that Byleth would care that he wasn't bowing.

"I'll admit, it's tricky to sneak in with these recruits, but I think I did pretty well. Now, I do have one more try, don't I?"

Dimitri nodded excitedly. "For you I'd give the rest of the day."

"That's it? No night?"

Dedue and Ingrid cringed at the couple's awkward flirting, but they maintained a steady face.

"Let's try this again," Byleth advised, raising her sword to its normal guard, assuming a much more acceptable and ready stance. Dimitri too dropped into his guard, circling his opponent and watching her footwork.

"I don't get it, what's happening?" one of the recruits wondered aloud.

In a flash, the King of Lions tried the same move, jabbing twice but this time feinting into a sweep to take advantage of Byleth's high guard. It got her in the ankles, causing the Archbishop to stumble before she shifted her momentum into a roll, dodging a series of thrusts from Dimitri. Deflecting his third hit, she charged forward to get within striking range, knowing how she held the advantage in very close quarters. Not wanting to bruise that gorgeous face of his, she struck his chest with the pommel before he shoved her off, coughing from the strike.

"That's one," Byleth called out, but Dimitri shook his head.

"Not a killing blow."

"Maybe I don't want to kill you."

This time Sylvain cringed.

* * *

In the end, Byleth had landed two blows before Dimitri redeemed himself, avoiding his wife's face and hitting her right in the collarbone with the haft of his spear, leaving the coughing Archbishop frowning as she nursed to the quite large bruise on her neck.

"Anyone who didn't see that would get the wrong idea," she complained to Ingrid, chatting while Dedue cooked their lunch. Another fun fact about the Shield of the Lion was that he was the proud cook for the Knight Trainees, believing that motivation came from the stomach as well as the heart. As it turned out, it did, leading to a very happy mess hall as the recruits talked among themselves when Dedue abandoned his kitchen in exchange for joining his friends at the table. Dimitri was nursing a bruise to his lower thigh (Byleth wouldn't dare go for the face) and limped awkwardly to the table as well.

"It's so wonderful to see you all again," the Archbishop exclaimed, her smile light and pleasant, reminiscing about the times in the academy where she would share meals with her Blue Lions.

"It has been a lonely year without your company," Sylvain agreed, shoveling down his food. "How have you been, Professor?"

"The same as last year, I suppose. Nothing too noteworthy about me. I would visit the Kingdom more, but it took me a week just to come up with that plan to even infiltrate the training grounds."

"It was an impressive feat," Dedue admitted. "I suspected you were someone of great experience when you deflected my counters. No simple recruit would have anticipated that."

"I got my suspicions when I looked at your face through the helmet. I should have known those eyes would give you away," Ingrid added.

"I suppose I'll just walk in next time," Byleth laughed with a straight face, still not quite contorting her face as humanly as she would like. Her smile was always subtle, but no one seemed to mind.

"So, you must be here for a reason, as much as I adore your visits," Dimitri asked. "What news from the Monastery?"

"Our search for the rest of the Agarthan footholds have yielded a couple of locations," Byleth explained. "We found one in Hrym territory a couple weeks ago. Our scouts should be returning to the Monastery within the month. I decided to visit."

"And you need our help?" Dimitri wondered, his mind still troubled at the news. A couple years ago after the war, there was an assassination attempt on Byleth. Only by Felix and Ingrid's timely and convenient intervention was the Archbishop unharmed.

"I do. I want it. I would have no one else by my side than my first Blue Lions."

"It would be a good first mission for the recruits," Dedue noted. "We should get them ready."

"Dedue, it's the Agarthans, not some bandit rabble," Ingrid countered. "Let them stay. We have plenty of Knights."

Byleth let the two argue, instead turning to Dimitri.

"Have you heard from her in a while?" she asked, under her breath.

Her husband knew what she meant.

"...She bothers me at night. That cursed woman... But if what you say is true, I can offer her what she wanted. I can appease her. I can let her rest."

"You will," Byleth responded, letting her King know that the spirits in his mind would have their tribute at long last. They would never leave, but at least they would be... content.

"I will go with you. I'll send missives to Duke Fraldarius and Lord Gaspard. I'm sure Annette and Mercedes already know, seeing as they work with you."

Annette loved her position as the sorcery instructor, but mostly because of the swordsmanship instructor and the physician that worked alongside her. Felix and Mercedes juggled the positions well, traveling between Faerghus and Garreg Mach quite often.

"I've already sent a request to King Riegan. He'll be joining us as well. And he's in good enough condition for him to have Failnaught back."

"Ah, Claude. It has been a while. Though, with Almyran trade in place Faerghus has had good food stores," Ingrid noted. "Will Queen Hilda be joining him?"

"She will," Byleth assured. "We won't be holding anything back. We..." she looked to Dimitri, who only smiled in a determined resolve. "We will avenge Edelgard. And Jeralt. And all those who have suffered against those snakes."

"Then that's settled. At first light at the Harpstring Moon, we march for Garreg Mach," King Dimitri commanded, his grim facade returning ever so slightly. "Peace will finally be total."

"My King, I wouldn't dare deprive you of this. Allow us to protect you as well," Dedue asked, looking to Ingrid as well.

"Friends, I would gladly accept your aid. I'm quite excited. Oh and before I forget. Sylvain, if you're coming with us..."

"I'll meet you at the training grounds tomorrow morning at the break of dawn," Margrave Gautier said with rehearsed fluidity. It was a line he would often say many years before, after all.

* * *

It was night, and a cold one. Byleth would be staying for a week before Seteth and Flayn were to rendezvous in Fhirdiad to return her to the Monastery. Atop the lonely castle top with Dimitri now, they watched as the Great Tree Moon crested past the watchtowers, sailing through the ocean of stars.

"You've gotten better at smiling."

"Have I? I practice in the mirror every morning before my seminars."

Byleth's giggle was kind of odd given that there was barely any rise and fall in her voice, but it was... cute, regardless.

She rested her head on his shoulder, a great ordeal considering how he towered over her at times, so Byleth forced him to crouch slightly just so she could not strain her neck.

For someone without a beating heart, she could certainly wear it on her sleeve.

"The wind seems to have paused for now. This cold... it's nice," Dimitri sighed, closing his eyes and feeling his beloved warmth on his right.

"It's refreshing," the Archbishop agreed, snuggling into the furs of Dimitri's cape. "But I like being warm better."

They sat down a while, Byleth reclaiming her shoulder pillow.

"I haven't held Areadbhar in years. Is it safe?"

"Well that's an odd question. But you are going to need it in a few weeks, won't you. Yes, I still keep it in my quarters. And Aymr. And Failnaught. And... Sothis."

She never named it the Sword of the Creator anymore, Dimitri recalled. After learning the story behind the weapon from Rhea, Byleth refused to call it Sothis' sword anymore. It _was_ her. The same voice in her head was the spine in her hand.

"It is quite entertaining, the thought of you hauling four divine relics to battle. You would be quite slow, I can imagine. Four weapons. Ha."

"I thought you revered such objects."

"My admiration for them... lessened after learning what they were from Claude and Rhea."

"Ah, but you get to use them for their alleged purpose; to suppress monsters of Hrym," Byleth reasoned. "Faerghus lessons did have a modicum of hidden sense."

"I suppose you are right. I suppose their purpose is just. I will use Agarthan devilry to defile the Agarthan monsters who orchestrated this war."

"...After we handle this, I'd like to take you to Enbarr."

"Enbarr?" Dimitri wondered, questioning what could posses his dear wife to say such a thing.

"Edelgard had... a good idea. I wish to adopt some of her... less extreme policies over the next few years. Ferdinand is confined to the city with his injuries so we'll have to come to him. He's a good man. And I would trust him to pick up where Edelgard left off."

"I can see the appeal in that, yes," Dimitri nodded. "I can hardly see crests being useful after we hunt down those Agarthan rats."

"Not just Crests though. I was thinking about... shutting down the Monastery. Converting it, rather. It's already a center of learning and a center of power. Maybe we don't need the Church."

"Oh?"

Byleth looked south, towards her home so many miles away. "I understand Faerghus needs the Goddess... Needs Seiros. But I need you more. I think it's time we tell them the truth: that they can believe in their own strength, and the strength of each other."

...Dimitri looked on as well.

"That's ambitious. Funny, the last time I talked to Edelgard we argued about the same thing. But now that we know the truth... I understand her just a little bit more. Perhaps you are right."

"I hope I am. Seteth and Flayn wish that I am too, though with slightly stronger opinions."

"It's good you are using your power to help our land," Dimitri admitted. "I just wish I knew what the right answers are."

"You are King of Fódlan and my husband," Byleth smiled, this time a grand one. "I couldn't be prouder of the path you have cut for yourself."


End file.
